Nikhil Parekh - Indian Poet
As i strolled languidly on smooth cakes of road tarmac,
stringent pellets of sunshine struck my eyes,
blistering sheets of wind whipped petite regions of my flesh,
the steaming persona of ground formed a volley of cracks,
radiating at right angles from my slender soled feet.
when i frivolously wandered on the fluorescent cake of midnight moon,
ornately draped angels collided with soft cushions of my hair,
the ambience was overflowing with a sedative calm,
blotches of crime had faded into kingdoms of oblivion,
my conscience reverberated with impeccable nostalgia of early childhood.
after walking for long hours on cakes of snow,
savage blizzards hitting my cheek like an army of pistol bullets,
infinite territories of my skin transiting to an embarrassing crimson red,
the inner periphery of my ear frozen in the deafening cold,
i willing settled for a cupful of boiling ginger tea.
all i wanted was a cake topped with icy peppermint,
consisting of tons of chocolate curry,
topped up with immaculate dressings of blood red cherry,
a cake which could quench my insatiable gluttony,
awaken sweet memories of perpetual love which i had inadvertently craved for,
put me to sleep with an aura of immortal bliss encompassing my face,
dreaming about the palpable goodness that ever did exist.
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Cakes
Cakes
